Sudden Money!

A Somewhat Guilty Pleasure

Photo by 金 运 on Unsplash

I have never been poor, except as a student, when everyone I knew was also poor, and it was all a bit of a lark. No money for a sleeper on the train from Athens to Paris when I was 20? No problem—I slept up in the luggage rack! I was thrilled to get a fellowship for graduate work, which paid for my tuition and provided the munificent sum of $2400 per year for living expenses. I shared a bathroom with my landlady in Providence, and because the outer door on Bowen Street was sometimes left wide open, once or twice when I went to go pee, there was a random dog in there.

For most of my life, I’ve been middle-class, watching my pennies (all right, my dollars), keenly aware of prices and bargains. One year I taught grammar for two months at Katharine Gibbs (secretarial) School to have money for Christmas. This was quite a challenge, as I’d never been taught grammar myself, nor learned how to diagram a sentence. I was always just a lesson ahead of my class. When the term ended, I got my five-year-old a bike.

I always knew the price of everything in my shopping cart, and to this day, without conscious calculation (just a cash register mind), I can usually estimate the total to within five percent of the cost. (My first guess is always the most accurate, so I never allow myself to revise it.) Until recently, I rarely bought a sweater that wasn’t on sale—though I always splurged on lingerie. Once or twice a year, I bought filet mignon.

Recently, through no virtue or hard work on my part, I inherited some money, so I’ll have no financial worries now and throughout my “old age”—a phrase I still use waggishly, although it is entirely appropriate! I felt somewhat guilty about my new income until President Biden said his tax cuts wouldn’t hurt the middle class—that is, anyone whose household income was under $400,000.

I can’t tell you how happy and relieved this made me feel. I was and am still solidly middle class! But I feel very prosperous. My mortgage is paid off in Westchester and also on a house in Sag Harbor I share with my sister.

As my tastes are modest and I don’t hanker for jewelry or designer clothes, nor expensive boats or cars, I never have to consider money as a factor again! I now accept only the editing jobs that interest me and not the dull but high-paying ones I used to take on. I recently decided to work with an author just because I liked her, although I might make only about $10/hour editing her book.

I can buy whatever I want for dinner and not be guided by what’s on sale. We can go out to restaurants whenever we feel like it (still less than once a week, as I love to cook). I can give more generously to the ACLU, Feeding Westchester, 350.org, and the Bridget Alliance. I can even afford a vacation in Switzerland, the most expensive country in the world (although not the reason we went there: it’s a spectacular place).

It’s hard to overcome decades of thrift: buying the store brand or the weekly special and foregoing concerts and plays because the ticket prices are too high. I recently read that the household income of the average Broadway theater goer is some $350,000 per year. Although ours is less than that, we saw three Broadway plays and Sting this year.

Would I like a cocktail before dinner? Yes, please! As this is a new habit and I don’t like wine, it usually lasts me through dessert. Is it worth the $20 or so it costs, including tax and tip? I no longer worry about it! Hedonic adaptation hasn’t yet set in, and I’m delighted with the bartender’s special. Would I like some sweet concoction with St. Germaine and strawberries? Bring it on!

The biggest thrill is giving my money away. I recently gave my youngest son Lasik surgery, and he’s delighted with his new eyes. I hope the other two will follow suit. Giving the gift of better eyesight makes me feel like God.

My middle son argues that I’m not so rich. When he and his wife are both working, they make as much as I do, after taxes.

Ah, but I’m not really working. I write books for pleasure, not money—which is good because they rarely make any. My husband just took early retirement from his job. His books don’t make money either, but what do we care?

We are children in wonderland.

I realize that this post is taboo. We are supposed to keep our finances a secret, be they small or large. Certainly, in my family, we have always been more open about sex than about money.

But one of my pleasures is breaking taboos!